Back to 80: My literary life.

Chapter 28: Wrote the manuscript but did not speak (1st update, please vote for further reading)

Chapter 28: Wrote the manuscript but did not speak (first update, please vote for further reading)

Fang Minghua bought a Yanjing traffic map at the station, took his luggage to the bus stop, and went to find a small hotel near Chaonei Street to stay. He washed briefly, ate soy milk and fried dough sticks at a nearby restaurant, and then went straight to the magazine. ,
  The address of "Contemporary" magazine is near Chaonei Street. There are already many people standing in the yard of the magazine, talking in small groups in low voices.

They were all young people in their early twenties, both male and female, carrying small yellow satchels and looking a little excited.

They are all poetry lovers. When they heard that Poetry Magazine was going to hold a poetry seminar, they came from all over Yanjing City, and some came from nearby Jinmen City.

In the yellow satchel are poems published by poets they admire and manuscripts written by themselves. They are eager to see their idols, and they are even more eager to have their poems commented on and come into their eyes. They are even more eager to get their recommendations so that they can be published. Get into newspapers and magazines and enjoy the most exciting moments of your life.

This reminded Fang Minghua of the prosperous Tang Dynasty mentioned in the book. In Chang'an City, those talented young people took their own poetry manuscripts and asked their seniors for comments and guidance, so that they could pass the exam and complete the final feat of jumping over the Dragon Gate.

It seems that I didn’t just meet that young man on the train.

Fang Minghua sighed in his heart.

I wonder if that young man is here?

Fang Minghua was just about to go up when he heard someone pat his shoulder: "Haha, you are finally here too!"

When I turned around, I met the young man in the car.

Fang Minghua smiled at him and said nothing.

"Hey, didn't you say you came to Yanjing for a meeting?" The young man thought of something and asked suddenly.

"I'm having a meeting here." Fang Minghua pointed to the magazine building.

"You, you are here?!" The young man was very surprised when he heard something. He suddenly thought of something and was so shocked that he couldn't speak.

Fang Minghua "booed" and signaled him not to say anything. When he saw the door on the first floor opened, he quickly pushed his way to the front of the crowd and took out the letter of introduction and invitation from the unit. The security department personnel looked at it carefully before letting him go.

The people behind were unhappy when they saw this scene. "Hey, why can't we if he can? He is a relative of your leader?"

"That's right, you still have to go through the back door for this?!" Someone immediately agreed.

Unexpectedly, the security officer had a serious face: "Comrade, I don't know if he is a relative of the leader, but he has an invitation letter to attend the meeting! If you are able, take one and I will let you go immediately!"

"Invitation card?!"

Everyone was surprised when they heard this.

A student who looks like a student can actually participate in a poetry seminar? Many people didn't believe it, but some people vaguely thought of something.

"Comrade, what's his name?"

The security officer scratched his head: "It seems to be called... Fang Minghua.

It's him?

The youngest among the winners this time! A twenty-year-old young man actually won the second prize! On par with the famous Gu Cheng!
  The crowd immediately began to discuss.

"Hey, you didn't know, he also wrote a short poem titled "Spring", which was published in the magazine "Yanhe". Although it only has three sentences, it is so beautifully written!"

"What is this? I also wrote a novella, which was published in the special issue of Yanhe magazine at the beginning of the year, "Qin Province Young Writers' Novel Issue"!"

"I really can't tell."

"As the saying goes, people cannot be judged by their appearance, and sea water cannot be measured."

The young man standing behind the crowd looked at Minghua's back disappearing above the stairs and was stunned.

Fang Minghua didn't hear this.

He went up to the third floor, and within two minutes the staff of the magazine came up. After hearing him introduce himself, they warmly welcomed him into the conference room.

Not long after, the participants rushed to the conference room one after another and started to liven up, introducing each other, some of them knew each other, and they were all enjoying themselves. There were a total of twenty people who won the award this time, but only twelve came, mostly from Yanjing and surrounding areas. Not many people like Fang Minghua paid for their travel expenses, most of them paid for themselves, and poets often won the prize. Shy. Shu Ting, who won the third prize in Xiamen, did not arrive, which made Fang Minghua very regretful.

Fang Minghua prefers Shu Ting's poems, which are full of romanticism and idealism. His love for the motherland, life, love, and land is both warm and peaceful but also full of passion. This is completely different from the style of other hazy poets.

Especially the song "To the Oak", Fang Minghua likes it very much.

However, Bei Dao, Gu Cheng and other new generation figures in the poetry circle came, which suddenly made this seminar a lot more serious.

After a while, a group of elders filed in, and the conference room immediately became quiet. It was the big bosses of the judging panel who had arrived.

After a brief welcome ceremony, everyone introduced themselves, and the seminar officially began. The topic was "The Development and Direction of Chinese Poetry"

The topic is large and broad.

Fang Minghua originally thought that everyone would be reserved and polite to each other, just like the seminars he saw on TV in later generations. He did not expect that everyone would speak enthusiastically and even get red-faced over a certain issue.

This is really an era full of ideals and passions colliding.

The poetry seminar lasted for a day and a half. The participating poets had a lively discussion around the development and direction of poetry, and were full of confidence and hope for the future of poetry.

Fang Minghua felt a little sad.

The prosperity of Chinese poetry was actually concentrated in less than ten years from the late 1970s to the mid-1980s. Like a summer flower, it bloomed with its most dazzling light and then quickly declined.

Soon, the commodity economy surged and the people entered the era of national business.

As Zheng Zhihua sang in the song "Big People", "One billion people, 900 million businesses, and 100 million are waiting to see."

Who will listen to your poet singing high and low?
  Times will abandon you without even saying hello.

This is especially true for poetry.

Poetry is dead, poets are gone.

Finally it was Fang Minghua's turn to speak.

The host Zhang Zhonge is very enthusiastic.

"Comrade Xiaofang, you are the youngest comrade here, you are the sun at eight or nine o'clock in the morning. To paraphrase a great man's words: The world is yours and ours, but in the final analysis it is yours. What are your views on poetry? "

I?
  I guess I'm going to pour cold water on everyone.

Fang Minghua was just about to take out the speech he had prepared from his bag, but something went wrong and he put it back again.

"Editor Zhang, I feel that what everyone said is very good. In fact, I really don't have much to say. I haven't been writing poetry for a long time. I am mainly here to learn." Fang Minghua looked very sincere.

Zhang Zhonge was slightly disappointed, but he didn't think much about it.

Yes, after all, you are young, but you only have a long time to live.

Zhang Zhonge said a few more words of encouragement.

After the meeting was over at noon, everyone went down to eat. There were still poetry lovers standing in the yard, but Fang Minghua never saw the young man again.

At noon the next day, everyone had dinner in the restaurant, took a group photo as a souvenir, and then dispersed.

Fang Minghua didn't leave, he still had one important thing to do - go to see Wang Meng and deliver the jujubes given by Dong Mo.

 Thanks to book friends 2022117145128949, No One Call Me, Ben Fei Liehuo, zmd5888, and Shuchen for their monthly votes.

  
   
  (End of this chapter)

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